When the Dead (21 page)

Isobel did a lot of the group laundry herself. She had found
a large bucket for soapy water and a few tools for scrubbing and dirt removal.
On this day, Isobel thought it felt like a Sunday, she wasn’t alone. Due to her
slowly healing ankle injury she had to take a volunteer helper to carry the
supplies to the roof and back and to help get through the massive pile of
smelly clothes and bedding. Hayden volunteered without hesitation, eager to
help in some small way to pay back the group for letting her in.

            The day was windy and it could really be felt on
the roof. The clotheslines they had strung up in the first week were whipping
back and forth, a forgotten sweater waved like a flag. Hayden setup all the
supplies and Isobel sat down in front of the large bucket. She would wash the
clothes and Hayden would rinse and squeeze them out before hanging them to dry.

            “Man it is really cold up here!” Hayden shivered
and took the abandoned sweater off the line. “I don’t know who this belongs to
but I’m going to put it on to stay warm.”

            “I’m sure that’s fine.” Isobel said over her
shoulder. She looked like a natural home maker as she skillfully removed stains
and laundered each piece of clothing with care.

            “Have you ever wanted children, Isobel?” Hayden
asked her as she took a few of Ben’s plaid shirts and clipped them to the line
with two multicolored clothespins.

            “Me? No! Well, I guess I’ve never thought about
it. Maybe if I fell in love with someone who wanted children then I would. Why
do you ask?”

She stopped focusing on the washing
and turned her head to Hayden.

            “Oh, no reason. You just look like you would
make a good mom and I was thinking about those people, that family that died
before I moved in.”

            “The Coopers,” Isobel said and then turned her
attention back to the laundry.

            “Yeah, them. Did they seem scared to be bringing
a child into a world like
this
?”

            “A little, yes. But the world hasn’t changed as
much as everyone is going on about. It has always been full of bad people. Only
now it’s easier to tell the difference.”

            Hayden thought for awhile on it and decided to
press on with her questions. Her period hadn’t come on time but her diet had
been horrible as of late and she had missed a period in the past so she wasn’t
too concerned. She couldn’t help but think that it was due to something other
than malnutrition this time though so, she felt the need to inquire about Tom.

            “Because you’ve known him a lot longer than I
have, do you think that Tom would make a good dad?”

            This time Isobel didn’t stop her work, she just
laughed loud enough for Hayden to hear her. “Sorry. That was a serious question
wasn’t it?”

            “Yes. It was.”

            “You would think that a man who loves himself as
much as Vaughn does would value his offspring. He has kids from a marriage that
ended.”

            “And?”

            “He never talks about them. So, there’s your
answer. I’ve never seen them here to visit him either.”

            “How do you know about them then? Tom isn’t the
sharing type.”

            “I saw their names on some rental paperwork in
the office when Ben and I were there.”

            “He must pay child support or something.” Hayden
was starting to feel queasy. She wasn’t sure if it was from her possible pregnancy
or her nervousness about Tom’s lack of responsibility.

            “Well if he ever did he certainly doesn’t have
to anymore and I am willing to bet money that he is happy about it. My advice?
Don’t travel down that road with him. Inside, he’s as dead as they are.” Isobel
pointed to the street where the dead were still walking in great numbers.

            “I thought you guys were all buddy-buddy,”
Hayden said to her.

            “Think of me as a diplomat. I’m just a group
representative trying to keep things smooth with the evil dictator that could
really fuck us over if he wanted to.”

            From then on Hayden hung laundry in silence. The
only positive thought she could come up with was that there was already a lot
of unused and unneeded baby stuff packed away upstairs.

Jeff wasn’t drunk or tired and the one glass of wine he’d
consumed had left him feeling bold. Markus had downed a few glasses of wine,
almost an entire bottle by himself. Jeff and he had made love and then Markus
had passed out. It felt like the right time for Jeff to try to cover up one of
the evil deeds he’d done. He was going to move the body of the dog.

            He looked outside. The sun was on its way down
but it still covered the lawn in a soft glow. He looked around his apartment
until he found the baseball bat he’d been given by the others. With the utmost
care he opened the slider to his balcony, stepped outside, and closed it behind
him. Looking over the railing he could see the dog’s remains, mostly because he
knew they were there. It was fairly well-hidden but to anyone who might climb down
his own fire escape. There were heavier bushes just an apartment down and he
made the plan to drag the decomposing animal to them in order to fully conceal
the body.

            Slowly, he climbed down the ladder. He reached
the ground and took a moment to check for the dead. He knew nothing of how they
found their prey. Could they smell or see him? Could they hear his heart
pounding? Goosebumps formed on his arms and he made himself stop thinking on
the matter. He set his baseball bat down and reached for the hind legs of the
poodle.

            Just moments before, he had envisioned himself
pulling the body with ease and in one piece to its new resting place a few
yards away. Instead the back legs pulled free of the hips with a wet sound. A
smell rose in the air that made him vomit on the side of the building. He dropped
the legs and looked at his hands. Bits of the fur and flesh remained there,
clinging to his skin. He turned away from the carrion and crouched to wipe his
hands on the grass.

            Night was approaching and the world was quiet
around him but for the sound of feet hitting the grass, growing closer with
each step. His courage had left him and been replaced by embarrassment.

            “Why didn’t I bring gloves? And a bag? The dog’s
been out here far too long to stay in one piece.” He wiped his brow with the
back of one hand.

            “Uuuuggghhhh.”

            Jeff stood back up and turned to the voice.

            “Sheila?” His undead wife was walking quickly to
him. “Sheila, you can’t be here!” He stumbled backward and found the bat but
not enough of the courage he’d lost to actually take a swing. She was much more
terrifying to him in this new form. He chose to throw the bat at her and use
the second it bought him to climb back to safety. On his balcony again, he sat
with his back against the glass of the sliding door. Five minutes later the
door moved behind him.

            “What are you doing out there?” Markus asked
through a yawn and a burp.

            Jeff jumped to his feet. “I needed some air.”

            “You must be freezing cold. Come here and let me
warm you up.” Markus offered himself to Jeff.

            “No, I, I need to use the bathroom first.” He
dodged Markus’ open arms and went directly to the bathroom. He used bottled
water and soap to scrub the fur and skin from his hands, making sure there
wasn’t one hint of curl or fleck of it left in the sink basin. Clean, he went
to the couch in the living room.

            “You shouldn’t furrow your brow so much,” Markus
said as he sat down next to him. “You’re going to get wrinkles.”

Vaughn had been out in the morning on the day the mall
burned to the ground. A smell built in the air around ten, carried by a
west-blowing breeze, a horrible mix of wood smoke and burning flesh. From that
smell, he knew what was happening before he actually saw the smoke and flames
rising beyond the freeway. He decided it best to not investigate; the smell
would be impossible to get out of his clothes if he did and it wasn’t like he
could stop it from happening. There were no firemen to call, no first
responders, nothing to save. He went back to Willow Brook, climbed the fire
ladder onto his balcony and immediately headed upstairs to the roof for a
better view. Isobel appeared at his side soon after and he silently handed his
binoculars to her.

            “The mall,” She said softly. “Is this your work,
Vaughn?” There was a hint of disgust in her voice.

            “Is that a serious question, Isobel? I wouldn’t
waste a resource.”

            “Ha! You know, you’re right about that. You saw
Hayden and you just had to tap that oil reserve,” Isobel said, smacking her hip
for effect.

            “If you came up here to start something with me
then you are just as stupid as the other women; that or fond of the colors
black and blue,” Vaughn said in a low voice, his jaw clenching.

            “Don’t threaten me. That Hayden thing just came
out, ok? I came up here because there is a man in the bookstore bathroom. He’s
going to die in that fire.”

            “Eddie can take care of himself and it’s not him
I’m worried about.” Vaughn’s eyes squinted into the distance looking for things
Isobel couldn’t see, even with the binoculars.

            “We can’t be talking about the same guy. The guy
I met was starved and half-crazy; maybe all the way crazy.”

            “He’s got a really curly beard, about
five-foot-two and paranoid about eviction?” Vaughn used his hand to show Isobel
how tall he remembered Eddie to be.

            “Yep. Same guy. How do you know him?” Isobel
pulled the binoculars from her eyes and looked to Vaughn for his explanation.

            “I used to give him my leftover coffee out front
of the coffee shop right by the bookstore. He’d always hang out there. I saw
him once after the first day; he wouldn’t let me near a trash can he was
sleeping in. He must have moved into Barnes and Noble when he found out it was
still unlocked. So, like I said, he can take care of himself. He’s been
homeless for at least five years. He’ll just move to Target if he gets burned
out of his ‘home’.”

            “That sort of makes me feel better.” And it did,
but Isobel felt guilty for not telling Vaughn at the bookstore.

            “If you want we can invite him to move in.”
Vaughn nudged her, smiling and winking.

            “Why? You want to sleep with him too?” she shot
back.

            Vaughn punched her arm. “You really can dish it
out, Iz. That’s why I like you.”

            “I’m going back inside. For the record, I still
don’t like you and this better not bruise,” she said as she rubbed her arm. He
took the binoculars back and resumed his watch over the disappearing mall.

            Vaughn stayed on the roof for most of the early
afternoon. Ash had begun to fall lightly on Willow Brook and the sky to the
east was dark with smoke.
Who started the fire?
Vaughn thought over and
over. He felt like a rat watching an exterminator get closer and closer to
discovering his nest.

At
around noon a woman’s voice could be heard across Northgate; carried by a
megaphone and asking for survivors to come out. Her smooth voice and promises
of food, water, and protection had everyone in the building curious. They still
hadn’t seen the source of the voice when Vaughn came to the second floor with a
gun.

“Everyone,” he whispered, “turn off any lights or radios you have. Move
away from the windows. We don’t know what we’re dealing with just yet but I’m
pretty sure those are our fire starters.”

“She’s offering a lot. Rations we haven’t had in weeks,” Markus said.
“I’m not one to take women up on their offers but, I might make an exception.”

“Do what I say or regret it.” Vaughn sounded deadly serious. So, as
quietly as everyone could, they turned Willow Brook into a silent, dark, and
seemingly empty shell.

Ten minutes passed and a truck rolled around the corner. It sat on giant
wheels and was raised so high, someone could almost walk underneath it. Once
white, it was now a dirty brown like the people it carried.

“There must be twelve people in the bed of that truck,” Isobel gasped as
she peeked out of the darkened room into the day lit street. She hoped the
glare of the sun would make it hard for them to see her in the window.

“They look like crack addicts.” Ben had braved a quick look outside to assess
the group for himself.

“No. Anarchists,” Vaughn said from the corner of the common room closest
to the stairs. He crouched down and started double checking the weapons he’d
brought with him.

Isobel looked out the window again and she could see that what Vaughn
said was true. A large “A” within a circle, the emblem for anarchy, was
spray-painted with black paint on the driver’s side door of the truck. She
could see the people better too as the truck was driving slowly up the road and
was now parallel with the building. They wore a lot of black and many of them
had bandannas covering their faces up to their eyes. It had been unseasonably
sunny and any skin that was exposed had been
over
-exposed; an unhealthy
tan and on some, a peeling burn.

The woman on the megaphone, tall and blonde, stood at the center of the
truck bed, leaning against the back of the cab in a relaxed pose as if she
didn’t really give a shit about the task she was performing. The sweet words
coming from her mouth clashed horribly with her body language.

“I don’t trust her,” Isobel said.

“She’s in charge,” Vaughn whispered.

“Anarchists don’t have leaders,” Isobel thought aloud.

“Tell that to her,” Vaughn laughed.

“They are attracting a lot of attention from the zombies but they don’t
seem to care,” Ben said after looking again.

“You’re right Ben. Good eye. You notice how they’re not shooting any of
‘em?” Vaughn responded. “Just pushing them away if necessary with those poles
they have. Something’s definitely up.”

            “What
should we do?” Molly asked.

            “Wait
. . . someone is coming out of the office building across the street!” Isobel
yelled, surprised to see that someone had been surviving over there this whole
time.

            “Shh!”
Vaughn whispered. “Just watch.”

The woman was tall and thin with closely cropped black hair, peppered
with gray. She looked like a librarian and moved like a bird; many quick steps
with a constantly moving head. She carried a gun with her, held in front of her
body by shaking, outstretched arms. Other faces appeared in the windows of the
entry to the building, watching as their volunteer canary flew deeper into the
mine. Isobel thought she saw the woman’s eyes flick in the direction of Willow
Brook. She hoped the anarchists didn’t see it. A zombie approached the
bird-like woman and without hesitation she shot the thing down to keep the path
ahead of her clear and safe.

“Wrong choice lady!”
The blonde on the megaphone yelled, her voice
now cold and unfriendly as it projected across the paved lot. She tossed the
megaphone to another of her gang and was handed a sniper rifle by another. The
anarchist leader laughed and aimed the gun at the office building survivor.

“No, please!” she begged. “What did I do wrong? We’re starving in there.”
She gestured toward her family and friends, the building itself. “We need the
help you offered.”

“But you broke the rules of the game. You killed an ally.”

The blonde pulled the trigger and sent a bullet into the woman in the
parking lot. She fell backwards, the handgun clattering on the pavement. Blood
began to seep from her chest and her breathing slowed and stopped.

“She’ll get back up again. They shot her lung or something,” Ben said.

Isobel had stopped looking and, like many of the others, she was trying
not to freak out.

“I think that’s the point,” Rob spoke up. He hadn’t seen any of it but
from what he’d heard he could put the pieces together. “They don’t want this
plague to end. It has been the only thing to successfully bring down the
American government. Chaos reigns and they are right at home in it. If it was
my cup of tea I certainly wouldn’t want it to end either.”

            “Crazy
bastards,” Vaughn shook his head but he couldn’t help but admire the blonde’s
savageness. She wasn’t bad to look at either.

The megaphone found its way to her hand again and she spoke more
animatedly than before, as though the shooting had reinvigorated her. The dead
swarmed the truck, following the sound of the bullet and the megaphone to their
shared source.

“We are the future of this forgotten world. The establishment will never return!
If you kill a zombie, we’ll make you a zombie. That’s the deal, an eye for an
eye!”

The fallen office woman stood back up. Blood still oozed from the bullet
hole in her chest. She walked toward her killers without one thought of revenge
on her mind. When she made it to the truck they pushed her backward into the
mix to fulfill her duty as one of the dead.

            The
faces in the office building windows had disappeared but it was too late for
them.

“The rest of you come out here and make your choice. Join us or join the
undead!” The blonde yelled into the megaphone.

“Daddy, I don’t want us to go out there,” Gabe was crying as he whispered
to his dad.

“They aren’t talking to us buddy. They don’t
know that we’re here. We just have to stay very still and quiet so it stays
that way; like playing hide and seek, except we don’t want to be found. Ok?”
Rob said in the steadiest voice he could find.

“I like that game!”
Gabe whispered again, but with more happiness
in his voice.

The blonde was getting impatient. She pressed a button on the megaphone to
make it wail. Everyone in Willow Brook jumped.

            “Make
me come in there and you’re dead. No choice,” she threatened.

            Two
more women, a man, and a child emerged. They looked like skeletons after all
this time stuck in the commercial building.

            “Those
people, they have to know we’re in here,” Isobel said. “How many of us have
left the building? How much noise did we make when Hayden was stuck on the roof?
Vaughn, we walked right through that parking lot to go to the mall!” Vaughn
nodded in acknowledgement.

            “All
we can do is pray. Pray that they are God-fearing people who wouldn’t betray
us,” Moira said.

            “That
doesn’t leave me a lot of hope,” Ben said. “They are desperate and desperation
often throws the fear of God out the window.”

Moira sadly knew that to be true.

            “Those
anarchists could have already scouted the area too. Don’t forget about that
possibility,” Vaughn said.

The anarchists made the office skeletons stand in a line in part of the
empty but filling parking lot. The man dropped to his knees and started to talk
with the blonde. Isobel waited for his finger to point at Willow Brook. But instead
his fingers came together in front of him like he was praying.

“See,” Moira said, “God-fearing.”

“No, he’s begging for his life,” Ben corrected her.

The anarchist leader slapped the man’s face and pinched his deathly thin
arms, kicked him in his hungry stomach. She wouldn’t be sparing him or his
family today. They were too close to death to save them from it. Four more
shots were fired but never once into a brain.

“We’re in the zombie making business, fellas!” the blonde roared to her
motley following, not into the megaphone, but at the top of her lungs.

            “They
don’t have room in that truck for anyone else. You see that?” Vaughn asked to
the room, to everyone who dared look outside again. “They aren’t taking on
anymore mouths to feed, just drawing people out and killing ‘em to keep the
status quo.”

“Those people will be able to get through the stairwell in fifteen
minutes,” Isobel said.

Moira had a bible out and she was reading it through tears. Everyone else
had a weapon, even Jeff.

Vaughn was camped out at the top of the barricaded stairwell with an
array of weapons. He looked eager for a fight. The possibility of urban warfare
excited him. He clearly wanted to kill someone living, someone who was more of
an adversary than a shuffling corpse. Molly watched him. It ran chills down her
spine but surprisingly also sent a warm blanket of security over her.
He
could kill us all with his experience and his small armory, propped up against
the wall. Or, he could protect us from this group of tyrants.
She thought.
She was confident that he could take down four of them before breaking a sweat.
Her only doubt came from the fact that it was
his
choice and Vaughn wasn’t
exactly known for his
good
decisions.

The group drank room-temperature coffee to stay alert as they sat silent
for ten hours, until they felt like the anarchists had left the area. They
relied on their bullhorn a lot, which allowed Vaughn to track their general
location.

“We are really fortunate that they didn’t come by our building at night
like Hayden did. We’d be dead now,” Markus said as he finally took the risk to
speak aloud.